Page 57 of Pucked and Pregnant

You can do this. You’re about to have your first press conference since everything kicked off, no pressure.

No pressure, my ass. I wipe my hands on my pantsuit and try not to think of all the ways this could go wrong for me.

At least I’m first in the lineup tonight. I can get it over with and head back to my hotel room before that mob of vultures can get to me. Even with that reassurance, I still feel a prickle of nausea when I get the signal to walk out to the podium.

The second they see me, the chatter rises to a cacophonous roar of questions. I assume they’re asking me to comment on the drama their stories stirred up, but it’s so loud I can’t really make out anything they’re saying.

Just ignore the noise. Keep walking like you own the place.

They’re still shouting at me when I settle myself behind the podium. In fact, they somehow manage to get even louder.

My father once taught me that in a negotiation, the first person to speak loses, and I’ve had enough of them winning. So I wait silently for them to start behaving like professionals.

It doesn’t take long for them to catch on.

“I recognize many of you but I do see quite a few new faces here, as well, so let me introduce myself. My name is Olivia Winters. I’m the senior analyst for the Boston Blades. Per usual,I will be giving you a brief overview of today’s statistics before taking a few questions.”

There must be some special kind of crazy in my eyes because they stay quiet for the entirety of my statistics update.

“Thank you for your professionalism. I will now be taking your questions one at a time, starting with you,” I say, pointing at a woman wearing a turquoise trench coat.

“Tattle Teen here. What’s your relationship status?”

I’m so tempted to respond with, “Why? Are you planning to ask me out?”but that would only make things worse.

“How many of you are only here to ask me about my personal life?”

About a third of the room raises their hands.

“My job is to give you statistics about the game and answer your questions.”

“Don’t forget the fun facts,” someone yells out, causing snickers from the crowd.

“Of course not.” I smile. “My job does involve giving you some fun facts about our players, because that’s where the focus should be.”

The crowd starts grumbling.

Don’t lose the room. Stick to the plan.

“However, I know several of you won’t let me do my job until I clear up some rumors. Rumors that you all perpetuated. Let me be perfectly clear. This is the one and only time I will be talking about this. I suggest you listen carefully, because if there are any further questions after I address this, I will end my segment immediately and leave.”

You could hear a pin drop.

Damn, I feel powerful.

“To answer your question, Tattle Teen, I’m single. I don’t have a boyfriend or a husband and I would neverbe anyone’s mistress. Max is my twin brother. That is the only thing yougot right. Throughout our lives, we’ve been best friends and mortal enemies, usually both at the same time. I’ll do just about anything for him, but the minute he tries to steal fries off my plate, he’s losing a finger.”

A few of the reporters chuckle.

“I would imagine several of you also have siblings. So I want you to think for a moment if you could ever see them as anything more than that, and you how you would feel if somebody suggested that you did.”

I see heads shaking in the crowd.

“If it’s who I think it is, the anonymous source forSpotlight Secretsdeliberately took an extremely sarcastic comment out of context with the intent to cause further drama or harm.” I hold up a hand to stop the burst of questions. “No, I will not be sharing their name because one, I can’t prove it, and two, even if I could, they deserve privacy, regardless of whether or not they think I deserve the same.”

Do I actually feel that way?

Hell no.

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